The Aftermath of One Hundred Swords
by HardyGal
Summary: What IF Junko didn't give Makoto enough time to argue for hope during the final trial? What IF someone's despair sent Makoto to endure a second execution? What IF Makoto's (bad) luck allowed him to survive a second execution? What IF Junko concluded that the only way to punish Makoto without killing him was to just... keep him? Oh, how despairful on sooo many levels!
1. The Ultimate Ultimatum

Vote for despair, and they would be released into the outside world, into the rampaging apocalypse they had seen on the courtroom screens. Vote for hope, and they would all be punished, just as if they had voted for the wrong culprit in any other class trial.

Makoto... almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this seriously Enoshima's ultimatum? To either vote for an uncertain future or vote for a horrible execution? Sure, neither option was desirable, but this almost seemed too easy!

"It's okay." Any other time, Makoto might have been surprised by how calm he sounded. But, his friends were clearly spiraling, thrown off by the truths that had been revealed and the ultimatum they had been given. He had to help them re-focus.

Glaring at Enoshima, who hid behind the Monokuma plush, Makoto pointed out the obvious flaw in her ultimatum. "Nobody would actually vote to kill themselves, right?"

"Oh, let me just mention one more thing," Enoshima said, seeming to ignore Makoto. "When I win, to punish you guys... You'll have to stay here till you grow old and die. No fighting, no killing. _That's_ your punishment."

Makoto blanched. _'What...?'_

"You mean..." Hagakure gasped. "We'd just..."

"We'd have to just... live here?" Asahina whispered.

"She's saying she'll let us live!" Genocide Jack exclaimed happily.

Enoshima dropped the Monokuma plushie, shoulders drooping, face a picture of dejection. "If you're not happy with that," she said, wiping away a few welling tears. "Then go ahead and punish me, and make your way to the outside world."

Replacing the tears with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, Enoshima straightened and fixed each of them with a severe look. "Enter a world fallen from grace, where only despair exists. Where you'd likely be dead within a day."

"Wh-What are you saying?" Makoto stammered, fists clenching. "So no matter what, we're doomed...!"

"Wait a sec!" Enoshima shouted, smacking her hands against the podium and making Makoto jump a little. "I just got hit with an inspiration bomb..."

The glasses were gone, her eyes and voice wild with excitement.

"Dying of old age is boring as shit, right? The audience at home isn't gonna dig that at all! So, here's what'll happen! One of you will get to experience an instant, super impressive punishment!"

"What!?" Asahina's voice was high with a mix of indignation and horror. "Y-You can't just–!"

"Do you mean to say..." Togami interrupted, slow and uncharacteristically timorous. "...you'll execute one of us?"

"And I get to decide..." Enoshima's wild smile somehow got decidedly more deadly. "...who's gonna hafta suck it down!"

In an almost mocking manner, Enoshima pointed a red-clawed finger at the person across from her like a condemning judge. "Naegi! You're up!"

His heart stopped. The world stopped. Everything just seemed to stop.

"...M-Me?"

Enoshima giggled, smushing her hands against her cheeks. "Yeah! You've been acting up, causing all kinds of trouble! I haaate you!"

Then, she turned serious. Or what seemed to count as serious for Enoshima.

"So, let me make this clear," she droned, covering her face coyly. "Everyone has two choices in front of them. If a single person votes for 'hope' to be punished... then only Naegi will receive a harsh punishment, and the rest of you will live here in peace."

Then, she placed both hands on her hips, exclaiming dramatically, "If, on the other hand, you desire to see _us_ punished, then you must all leave this place."

Then, the glasses were back, as was the stern look as she continued to lecture them on her terrible ultimatum. "I will force you out, ensuring you all die horrible deaths in the outside world."

Finally, she busted out the rock-on symbols with a wild cackle. "What I'm sayin' is, if you sacrifice Naegi, the rest of you will get to live out your lives!"

 _'Sacrifice me...? B-But that's–!'_

Makoto couldn't breathe. This... This was moving too fast! Everything had stopped just a moment go, but now it was moving too fast, just like Enoshima and her portfolio of personalities!

"What?" Enoshima cooed from behind the Monokuma plush. "Has your resolve softened? Have you lost confidence? Are you afraid of being punished? Don't you have faith in your friends?"

Friends? Right, of course, his friends! They were friends, and they needed each other right now! The world snapped back to normal, and Makoto quickly regained his breath.

"N-No!" he exclaimed. "That's not it...!"

"It's okay," Enoshima said gently, plushie discarded and glasses re-donned. "You're right to be afraid. It would seem all of those around you have realized the futility of going against me."

He was going to refute her automatically. After all, as confused and afraid as his friends were, they had to realize that they couldn't just submit to this!

But then he saw them.

All of them - Hagakure, Asahina, Togami, and even Genocide Jack... They were all avoiding his gaze, faces darkened by despair.

"G-Guys...?"

Enoshima sniffled, wiping her eyes. "It's so beautiful... Your lovely faces, eroded by despair, have come together as one... Besides..."

Picking up the Monokuma plushie, Enoshima turned to the one other person Makoto hadn't checked on yet. Or rather, had been too afraid to check on yet.

"Kirigiri," Enoshima exclaimed from behind the plushie. "You could never betray your father, could you?"

"...What?" Kirigiri stared at the Ultimate Despair uncomprehendingly - an expression Makoto had never before seen on her face until this trial.

"I mean, the headmaster's only wish was that all of you would survive, right? That's why he tried to trap you all here, after all! The least you could do is try to honour your dead father's wishes. Puhuhuhuhu!" Enoshima released Monokuma's signature laugh.

Kirigiri gaze fell, and with it, Makoto's heart.

"Kiri...!" he gasped.

"One person's despair is enough to seal your fate!" Enoshima shouted, back to her wild personality. "Isn't that just the most hopeless outcome ever!?

"So who do you think's gonna give in?" she asked, smushing her face again. "Whose despair is gonna sign your death warrant!?"

His death warrant. The words echoed in Makoto's mind. Was his life really in the hands of everyone here? And if it was...?

"No one..." It took Makoto a moment to realize he had spoken.

No, not just spoken, _refuted_.

Because it was not just his life on the line right now, it was _everyone's lives_ , whether Enoshima or anyone else realized it or not. And even if it was just his life, Makoto could think of no better people to trust with it. So, he bolstered himself and shot Enoshima a sharp glare.

"Nobody's gonna give in to despair!" he shouted. "We're not gonna lose to you!"

Something changed. Enoshima was staring at him, completely blank-faced. There was no little accessory, no obvious indication of her having put on another personality. It was just Enoshima, staring at Makoto like he was some uninteresting exhibit at a children's museum.

She sighed. "So boring. Stubborn till the very end, huh? Well, that's fine. Then let's just hurry up and get it over with. It's time for the final vote. Everything will come to an end. Your stupid hope..."

The blank mask broke for just a moment, and in her eyes Makoto could see nothing but pure and unadulterated hatred. "And your stupid life!"

The final vote. This was it. The moment that would determine, not just his life, but everyone's lives. And seeing all his friends, with their downcast faces and unmotivated stances, Makoto knew that it was all up to him. He had to make them remember! Convince them not to give up! Because to live in despair... That wasn't really living at all.

So, Makoto met Enoshima's hateful gaze.

"We won't give up...!" he asserted. "As long as there's hope, we'll never give up!"

"Ah, ah, ah." Enoshima replaced her glasses prop, tutting admonishingly. "Don't start breaking the rules now, Naegi."

A warning bell went off in Makoto's mind. "...What do you mean?"

"It's voting time," Enoshima reminded him calmly, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. "We've both said our piece, and now it's time to vote. No more arguments, no more pleas."

"Wait, what...!?"

"Now!?" Kirigiri gasped.

"Puhuhuhuhu!" Enoshima chortled from behind the Monokuma plush. "And don't forget to make extra sure to vote! After all, you wouldn't wanna be punished for something like that _now_ , would you? Not when we're sooooooo close to the end!"

"Not yet!" Asahina cried. "We need more time to–!"

"Nope! No more time! Everyone, grab that lever and give it one last big ol' yank!"

Everything was moving too fast again. The courtroom seemed to fill with panicked energy as everyone looked from Enoshima, to the voting dial, to each other, to Makoto.

"E-Everyone...!" Makoto somehow managed to find his voice, slamming his hands on the podium, mostly in an effort to keep himself steady. "Don't lose hope now!"

"You got fiiiiiive seconds!" Enoshima announced. "Five!"

"What do we do!?" Hagakure yelped.

"Four!"

Togami snarled frustratedly. "Dammit, I need time to think!"

"Three!"

"Oh, no!" Genocide Jack swooned. "If even Master doesn't know what to do...!"

"Two!"

Asahina seemed to be hyperventilating. "I can't- I can't do this...!"

"One!"

In a flurry of panicked motions, everyone, save for Enoshima, pulled their voting lever.

"What's it gonna beee-eeee?!" Enoshima sang, and slammed her plushie onto one of the courtroom buttons.

The courtroom screens lit up, displaying the voting slot machine. Makoto clenched his fists, nails biting into his palm as he watched the options spin by rapidly. As the slots slowed, Makoto could glimpse the faces of each of his classmates, both dead and alive.

One slot.

Two slots.

Three slots.

The slot machine lit up cheerily.

Makoto's face took up all three slots.

 **GUILTY**.


	2. The Pre-Execution Discussion

Guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty guilty guilty guilty guilty guilty guiltyguiltyguiltyguiltyguiltyguilty–

The word flashed in his mind over and over again, mocking him, deriding him, condemning him, it's monotony only broken by Enoshima's laughter. Genuine, breathless laughter, as though she had witnessed one of the best pranks in the world.

"You actually did it!" she shrieked, hugging herself. "Omigod I knew it! I knew it!"

This didn't... He couldn't... There wasn't...

"How does it feel?" Enoshima moaned, sending sickening chills down his spine. "This despair? It must feel mind-breaking. Soul-crushing. Like your whole world is crashing down around you! To be in such despair...! Oh, I'm soooooo jealous!"

He could refute her. But... was there any reason to? It was over, wasn't it?

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Since this is the final execution, we gotta do this properly! Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back!"

Enoshima skipped away from her podium, out the courtroom, and into the elevator, giggling all the while. The elevator gate closed, and the elevator lifted, taking the Ultimate Despair and her hysterical laughter away, leaving behind the dead silence of her making.

The world had gone back to normal again. Nothing was moving too fast, nothing was moving too slow. So why did everything feel so very _wrong_? Things weren't supposed to end like this, right? They were supposed to _defeat_ Enoshima and leave the school together. But instead...

Makoto's hands tightened over the podium, the one thing keeping him from collapsing on the spot. "It- it's okay..."

His voice was barely more than a squeak, a whisper, but in the deadened courtroom, it was deafening. His words shot through the room, straightening the spines of his surviving classmates. He could feel all their eyes, all their negative energy, land on him.

"H-How can you say that?" Asahina whispered, voice cracking. "We... You..."

"ACHOO!" Genocide Jack sneezed, making everyone in the courtroom flinch in surprise, and Fukawa straightened with a sniff. "Wh-Wh-What's going on?"

"Naegi is going to be executed," Togami answered coldly.

"Wh-What? Ag-g-gain?"

"You can't just say it like that!" Asahina yelled.

Togami fixed her with a hard stare. "Why? Will saying it any other way make it any less true? Will sugar coating it change the outcome? I simply stated a fact - someone chose to save themselves, and now Naegi is going to suffer the consequences."

"It-It wasn't me!" Hagakure exclaimed defensively.

"Your sudden claim that it wasn't you only marks you as the most likely culprit."

"Shut up!" Asahina snapped. "This whole time, _you're_ the one who's been talking all high-and-mighty about how you want to win this game–!"

"Both votes only provided for a no-win situation," Togami retorted, his cold facade beginning to crack. "You think you know me so well? Then explain what I, a person who has only ever sought to _win_ this game, would have had to gain from submitting myself to it?"

"Wait," Hagakure cut in. "So you _wouldn't_ sacrifice Naegi for survival?"

"Of course he would!" Asahina glared at the Ultimate Affluent Progeny through tearing eyes. "Cause- Cause he's just like that!"

Togami met her glare. "Says the girl who has already proven she is even willing to sacrifice _herself_ in a no-win situation."

"W-W-Wait!" Fukawa cried, clutching her head agitatedly. "S-S-Slow down! I don't kn-know what's going on!"

"You shut up!" Asahina screamed at Togami, slamming her fists against the podium. "Just shut up! Shut up!"

It was too much. Makoto thought he could face what was coming to him with stoicism, just like Owada or Celeste, but as soon as Togami had outright stated his oncoming fate... Makoto suddenly found himself with his back against the courtroom wall, breaths coming out in sharp gasps.

He didn't want to do this. Not again. There was no way his shallow reserve of luck could pull him through another execution. And now his friends were yelling at each other, accusing each other, and he hadn't even been given the chance to–!

"Stop!" Makoto's scream cut through the rising arguments, and in an instant, the room was dead again. "Please...! Just... stop."

He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his coat sleeve. "I... I get it. Okay? You guys... You're afraid. And I get it. But..."

They were supposed to be friends, right? They were supposed to get out of here together. And yet one of them - hell, maybe _all_ of them! - had voted to...

No, Makoto decided. He was being unfair. Enoshima had cornered them, giving them no time to think about their decision. They were afraid, and he completely understood that. So, Makoto took a deep breath and looked up at his classmates, still standing at their podiums.

"This doesn't have to be the end. Just because I'm... gonna..." He swallowed. "Just because Enoshima's making you all stay here, that doesn't mean you have to give in to despair. Because..."

He managed a smile. It was small and frail, threatening to break under the slightest pressure, but genuine. "Because you guys are still alive...! It's like that old saying, right? 'Where there's life, there's hope.'"

There was no response. No one seemed willing to look him in the face.

"If... If one of you _did_ vote to stay here, instead of facing the outside world..." Makoto continued, voice beginning to waver. "I don't care who it is, 'cause I understand, all right? You were just scared and I understand... I... I understand... You- you were just scared..."

His voice broke, and Makoto lowered his head, fighting back another onslaught of tears. Someone sobbed, and the next thing Makoto knew, he was locked in a tight hug.

"It... It's not... f-fair...!" Asahina cried breathlessly, face buried in the shoulder of Makoto's hoodie. "I... I d-didn't... I-I'm...!"

"Asahina..." Makoto returned the hug. "It's... It's all right. It'll be all right..."

"No! N-No it won't!" Asahina pulled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. "I could barely... After Sakura..." She broke down again, covering her face with her hands.

"But... you're still here, right?" Makoto said.

Asahina wiped her eyes and looked at him, face contorted with grief and confusion.

"Look at all of us...! Even after everything we've been through, all the people that we've lost, we managed to make it this far! This is just..." He paused, determined to keep his voice steady this time. "This just happens to be as far as I go...

"But you guys... You can still keep going. You can't stop now, not after all this...!" Bolstered by his own optimism, Makoto raised his voice slightly. "There's still hope. So... Please. _Please_. For the sake of everyone we've lost, don't lose it."

No response. Asahina had backed away, head lowered and hands clasped in front of her. Hagakure was leaning against his podium, one hand covering his face. Togami had outright turned his back on Makoto. Despite the confusion she must have still been feeling, Fukawa likewise avoided Makoto's gaze. And Kirigiri...

"Kiri," Makoto whispered, turning to the Ultimate Detective. "Please. Say something."

Her face was unreadable under the shadows cast by her hair. But, at Makoto's plea, Kirigiri did murmur something in reply.

"You're so emotional." Kirigiri lifted her head slightly, and Makoto could just see the feeble spark of a sad smile in her eyes. "Even when defeated, you keep moving forward."

"Well, y'know..." Makoto shrugged with a small smile of his own. "It's the only thing I'm good at."

There was nothing else to be said after that. Makoto's legs finally failed him, as did his self-control. He collapsed to his knees and cried softly.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that. Probably not more than a few minutes or so. By the time Makoto had pretty much expended his emotional energy, a certain despicable mascot made his comeback, popping up atop the judge's seat.

"Guess who's ba-ack!" Monokuma sang. "Everything's been aaaall set up! And there's no sense in ending this whole thing without everyone's favourite mascot! So..." Said mascot turned his evil eye on Makoto. "Who's ready for the final punishment?"

Makoto swallowed. Slowly, he got to his feet. "We're not... gonna lose to you."

Monokuma giggled. "Aww, has the stress of your impending doom finally broken your puny little mind? Well, I don't hate t' break it to ya, but you've already lost, dummy!"

"You're just killing me!" Makoto retorted. "That's not the same as killing hope!"

"Meh, whatever makes you feel better in your last moments. So, do you have any last minute preparations to make during your last moments? I'm more than willing to let this drag on for a bit. As much as people claim to be excited for the finale, there's always that part of them that just _loathes_ to see it all come to an end."

"No."

"Ya sure? No divine confessions? No tearful goodbyes for your friends?" Monokuma tapped the side of his head slyly. "Not like a little goody-two shoes like you has much to confess. And seeing as at least _one_ of your friends apparently values their life over yours, I totally understand why you wouldn't want to waste your last precious amounts of time with them."

"Stop. Just... get it over with." Makoto had to hold back a 'please.'

"Ooh, you're really gunning for it, huh? Aaaaaaalrighty then! It's time for the last blackened to face their fate!"

Makoto looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

"I've just prepared a veeeery special punishment for Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Lucky Student!"

Clenching his hands at his sides, Makoto turned to his classmates. "Everyone... Despite everything, I'm so glad I got to meet you guys."

"Let's give it everything we've got! It's PUNISHMENT TIIIME! Ah-hahahahahahahaha!" Monokuma lifted the hammer with a cackle...

"Don't give up hope, all right?" Makoto said frantically. "Please, please don't give up hope!"

...and slammed it onto the judgement button.

 **Congratulations!**

 **Makoto Naegi has been found guilty.**

 **Time for the punishment!**

* * *

 _A/N HardyGal: Wow. I never thought I'd receive this much enthusiasm for this thing. Heck! I thought I was recycling an idea that had been played with before, but apparently not. Regardless, I'm so happy that people seem to be enjoying this thing thus far (a bit nervous too, but let's stay positive)._

 _Oh, and to those who it may concern, don't worry about Makoto seeming to let his classmates off too easy. He doesn't know who voted for him yet, and trust me, despairing betrayal will hit him eventually, and hit him HARD._


	3. One Hundred Swords

Monokuma peeked down at him over the rim of the barrel and giggled. That was the last thing Makoto saw before Monokuma popped the lid on, sealing Makoto inside, with nothing but darkness to keep him company. Small streaks of light, courtesy of the spotlight suspended above the execution room, trickled through the cracks in the barrel, and as Makoto's eyes began to adjust, his nerve began to slip.

It was too much. He could barely move. He was trapped like... like a cadaver locked in a coffin a few sizes too small. He couldn't look to his friends for some kind of support. He couldn't even see what horrible fate awaited him. He... dammit, he couldn't breathe!

Gasping, Makoto pushed against the lid of the barrel. It didn't budge. He pounded his fists into it. The lid slipped, just slightly, and Makoto's eyes widened. Then, something crashed through the side of the barrel.

...His cheek stung. That was the first thing that managed to register in Makoto's shock frozen mind. Second was the cool, metallic feel of the object grazing the side of his face, right where his cheek stung.

Something else crashed through an entirely different side of the barrel, barely missing his knee, and Makoto's mind snapped back into focus. He shrunk back as much as he could in the cramped space, desperate to get away from the... whatever they were. What little light he had appeared to glint off of the objects that had been stabbed through the barrel.

Stabbing, sharp, cold, metallic, shiny... Were these _swords_?

No sooner had the realization struck him, then another sword cut through the barrel. Then another. And another. They didn't stop. There was no pause, no time allowing Makoto to catch his breath. It was just sword after sword after sword cutting it closer and closer and closer and Makoto didn't know how long he could keep up avoiding them all because it was getting harder and harder and harder to move–

A cry of pain. Makoto barely had time to realize it was his own, barely had time to register that his left arm was bleeding slightly, before another sword cut the skin over his shin. Sword after sword after sword delivering slice after shallow slice but even with his blood beginning to decorate the blades, he was still somehow avoiding–

His thigh exploded in pain. Some kind of strangled scream left his mouth but he couldn't keep focusing on that anymore, not with sword after sword after sword still–

Agony consumed every oversensitive nerve in his foot, and blood soaked through the fabric of his shoe–

His side was pinned and he couldn't move and it hurt so much and he couldn't breathe and–!?

...

...

...Had he passed out?

Possibly.

He certainly hadn't died. He knew for a fact that light could not revive a dead person, and it was light that had revived him. Bright, harsh light, pouring down on him and shining off of every blade crammed in there with him and oh, god, it looked horrible and everything hurt so damn much...!

Maybe... maybe the light was here to take him away, just like in all the stories.

That was a welcome thought.

All the agony would go away if he went into the light, right? That's how it worked, right?

But he couldn't move at all, not without the pain biting into him harsher than ever, like an wild animal determined to choke him to death and now a shadow was passing over him and the light was going away leaving without him and no please he needed it...!

He tilted his face upward with an inaudible whimper - a small movement, but he payed for it. Utterly debilitated by the resulting pain, he dropped his head and felt the chilling tendrils of unconsciousness begin to take hold of him.

He didn't try to fight them.

The light was gone anyway. All he had seen was a piercing red eye, peering down at him with unfriendly intent.

As the darkness ate him up again, he hoped the eye would leave him alone...

* * *

With a dramatic flourish, Monokuma popped the lid off of the sword-riddled barrel and peeked inside. He stiffened, appearing to blanch. He quickly replaced the barrel lid and disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the fence that separated the spotless from the blackened.

"Woah, now _that_ was something!" he exclaimed, trembling slightly. "Almost too much for even _this_ bear to handle!"

None of the remaining students – Yasuhiro Hagakure, Kyoko Kirigir, Aoi Asahina, Byakuya Togami, or Toko Fukawa – graced him with a response.

"Hey, c'mon, what's with all the gloominess? You guys are making Fukawa's character completely redundant!"

Not even Fukawa responded to that one.

"This is what you wanted, right?" Monokuma giggled. "The results never lie, and the results said that Naegi had to die in exchange for your permanent residence here!"

"Wh-Wh-Who the hell would vote for _that_?!" Fukawa cried, breaking the heavy aura surrounding the five survivors.

"Hm, that's the final question, isn't it? Who's responsible for condemning you all to life in Hope's Peak? Who's responsible for condemning poor, naïve Makoto Naegi to being stuck like a pig in a barrel?"

The atmosphere in the execution room grew immediately tense as the survivors held their breath.

"...Buuuuuut, my contract specifically states I'm only obligated to answer questions concerning your killing school life. And as of the final vote, your killing school life is officially over!"

"What...?" Asahina breathed.

Monokuma tilted his head. "Oh, did you forget? Alongside living here until you die, part of your punishment includes no more murder!"

"We've seen what the outside world is like," Kirigiri said, voice cold and neutral, as though she were explaining a case. "And the vote determined we stay here anyway. There should no longer be incentive for us to escape. It makes sense to remove the option entirely."

"Ding ding ding ding! Trust the detective to always have the answers! Speaking of which..." Monokuma dawdled up to Kyoko and held out a paw. "Cough it up, Kirigiri!"

Kirigiri met the mascot's eyes blankly.

"You know what I'm talking about!"

Face still blank, Kirigiri reached into her pocket and pulled out the Monokuma skeleton key. Unceremoniously, she dropped it into his paw.

"Okay!" Monokuma tucked the key who-knows-where and stepped back. "That's all. Now shoo! I have a mess to clean up and some things to do!"

With that, Monokuma disappeared. The survivors were left staring at a barrel full of swords and wallowing in a room full of despair.

"Wh-Wh-What do we do now?!" Fukawa wailed.

No one had an answer to that.

One by one, they left. First Fukawa. Then Hagakure, with Togami coming soon after. Then Asahina. Kirigiri was the last one. She simply stood there for some time, not even looking at the barrel in the other side of the fence. Then, like everyone else, she left.

* * *

If there was one thing Junko craved more than despair, it was the thrill of the unknown. After all, it was the utter lack of unknown factors in the world that lead her to crave despair in the first place. So when she encountered something truly baffling, truly mind-bending... Oh, it was all she could do to keep from drooling in anticipation.

It took forever, but finally every one of her classmates left the basement and dragged themselves back to their respective dorm rooms. At this point, Junko couldn't care less about them.

Quickly, she made her way back down to the basement. She ran through the courtroom, down the hall, into the execution room, and through the gate, stopping in front of the sword-riddled barrel that still sat beneath that glaring spotlight.

Was this what children felt like when they received a gift-wrapped present? Giddy with excitement, stomach fluttering as they imagined all the possible treasures contained within? Sure, Junko had received a glance of what could possibly be inside this particular present through Monokuma's eyes. But it was just too unbelievable, too infuriating, too impossible to be true...!

She just had to see for herself.

Trembling, Junko tore off the top of the barrel and looked inside.

There was Makoto Naegi, curled up and nestled in the swords. Blood squeezed out from beneath all the blades stabbed into him and leaked lazily from the much more numerous cuts all over his body. His eyes were closed and his face pale. If only granted a glance, anyone would have determined he was dead.

Junko was not about to determine by a glance. In fact, no sooner had she opened the barrel, she caught the steady rise and fall of his chest. Heart throbbing, Junko reached inside and pressed two fingers against his jugular, just to confirm...

There was a pulse.

A pulse...

A hell damned pulse...

Junko pulled back, completely blank faced. There were so many feelings demanding to be felt - frustration, fury, hatred, euphoria, excitement, and of course, despair. Pushing aside the more angry feelings for later, Junko released a slightly hysterical laugh.

"I can't kill you... Ha ha...! Why the hell can't I kill you...!?"

She looked back into the barrel, giggling. All those swords, and even when he had been stabbed by them, they had somehow avoided all major arteries and organs. It defied all expectations. More importantly, it defied _her_ expectations.

"The despair of being unable to kill your mortal enemy..." Junko moaned, leaning against the barrel to steady herself. "I didn't really believe it would ever end up like this."

She reached back inside the barrel and poked the occupant's cheek fondly. "I hate you so damn much."

* * *

"Everything must come to an end.

"That's what the world says, right? When your sandcastle is decimated on a crowded beach, when your pet dog meets the grill of a passing vehicle, when all your friends begin to move on without you, the world tells you that everything must come to an end eventually. With such a hopeless inevitability, doesn't that just fill you with despair?

"But it's all a lie.

"Nothing ever truly ends, it just lends itself to something new. You cry over your decimated sandcastle and your childhood friend promises to make you happy; you cry over your dead dog and everyone tells you that it will be all right; you cry over your bygone friends and you realize that maybe you can join them.

"Does it stop there? Of course not! Your childhood friend overworks himself to fulfill his promise, everyone keeps telling you it will be all right until it becomes impossible to believe otherwise, and you end up never joining your friends.

"It's all just simple cause and effect. If everything really did come to an end, there would be nothing left.

"So the next time someone tells you that everything must come to an end, feel free to call them a big fat liar! Nothing ever ends. It will continue whether you want it to or not.

"Now, doesn't that reality fill you with so much more despair?

"And thus ends the last Monokuma Theatre!"

* * *

 _A/N HardyGal: Um, please be aware that none of this had been written in advance. I am publishing these chapters as I write them, so you guys may need to be patient with me._

 _That said, a big thank you to all the people who took the time to review! That really means so much to me, and I always look forward to reading them whenever I return home from school and work - it's very therapeutic and encouraging. So again, thanks!_


	4. Praying For Rainy Days

Post-Killing School Life, day three.

Despair choked the halls of Hope's Peak, still just a potent as it had been that evening when the last execution had been carried out. All five survivors had largely confined themselves to their dorm rooms, never stepping out except to maybe get some food. Not one of them had suffered contact with another yet. Fukawa did try to make contact with Togami every so often, but no amount of doorbell pushing or pleas for reciprocation could get him to open his door.

Even in the midst of unified despair, the Ultimate Writing Prodigy still somehow managed to make herself the odd one out. Junko was almost annoyed, actually. Fukawa's despair was one born of confusion. Compared to the true, devastating despair being displayed by the rest of her classmates, Junko wasn't even sure she could classify it as despair at all. Well, at least she could count on Genocide Jack for that.

The Ultimate Murderous Fiend would pop out every so often, and Fukawa's room would suffer the consequences. Jack spent much of her time screaming her fury into the soundproofed room, carving various derogatory terms into the walls, cursing herself profusely, and/or nearly tearing out her braids in a fit of self-hatred. Junko once caught her considering turning her scissors on herself, but then Fukawa returned with a sneeze, spoiling any fun that might have come from that.

Hagakure did make some pathetic attempts to continue life as normal. The Ultimate Clairvoyant left his room more often than most, but he was also the quickest to return back to it. He was almost constantly muttering to himself, feeble words of self-affirmation. Junko didn't worry about it - he was just as steeped in despair as anyone else, and his sad attempts to tell himself otherwise only made it all the more potent.

Asahina had essentially turned her room into a safe house, stockpiled with all manner of foods taken from the kitchen and warehouse, ensuring that she wouldn't have to leave the room for some time. Even with all that food, Junko couldn't be sure the Ultimate Swimmer wouldn't starve herself - Asahina had hardly touched her impressive supply. Whatever she did attempt to eat, she never finished. Even her precious donuts couldn't seem to pull her out of the heavy despair that had her lying prone on the bed more often than not, crying until she had no energy left to cry.

Even compared to that, Togami and Kirigiri somehow came across as the most isolated.

Togami spent most of his time sitting on the edge of his bed, glaring at the floor. Sometimes he even fell asleep in that position. Occasionally, he would shoot to his feet and flip or kick whatever object in his room that had not yet been flipped or kicked, snarling some pathetically mild swear. He would always return to his position on the bed though, shoulders slumped and head low, looking nothing like an Ultimate Affluent Progeny.

Kirigiri was much the same, just without the outbursts of rage. She just sat or lay on the bed, staring into the distance with dead eyes. There were even times Junko caught her sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, looking for all the world like a lost little girl. It was arguably the most emotional Junko had ever seen the Ultimate Detective - she would have laughed if it weren't so pathetic, but she laughed anyway.

The whole of Hope's Peak was just drowning in despair. It was horrifying. It was wonderful. And compared to what Junko currently had lying in her room, it was so damn boring.

Keeping surveillance on her five despairing classmates had become a chore, an obstacle keeping her from the latest object of her intrigue. It was almost despair in and of itself, so Junko kept to it, reveling in the despair of knowing that all she had to look forward to was babying her sixth classmate.

"An unavoidable cycle of despair…" Junko leaned against one of the surveillance desks, repressing a moan with instead a giddy giggle. "Makoto Naegi, what _are_ you?"

A pain, for one thing. He was still lying on her bed, refusing to wake up after nearly three days of unconsciousness. Junko could now better understand some people's decision to take coma patients off life support - besides being unproductive and useless, they were also extremely boring to look at.

To his credit, though, Naegi had come down with another fever, which meant plenty of writhing and moaning to offset the quiet slumbering. And when Junko got tired of that, she simply had to soothe him, cause oh yeah, he was also a baby. Hell, he even calmed down faster whenever Junko sang, particularly that dumb little _warabe uta_ that his sister was always reported to be singing.

God, Junko hated that song.

And yet she sang it anyway. Because putting this much time and care and effort into someone she abhorred with every fiber of her being the second she recognized that light of hope in his eyes, someone she had given her all to kill?

That was despair.

Her despair.

"My despair," Junko whispered, eyes glazing over despite knowing she should be watching her other classmates.

A staticky groan snapped her out of her reverie. She glanced at the baby monitor sitting on the desk beside her. The pixel-y sound waves on its display rose and fell in tandem with the static-filled sound of distressed breathing.

"Aw, Naegi is having another nightmare."

Just in time, too. Her surveillance shift was over and it was about time that she change his stitches.

* * *

Makoto had been having a lot of nightmares lately. Considering the situation, though, that was to be expected. In a way, it was comforting to know that even his subconscious had yet to be desensitized to the horrors of this school. But what a feeble comfort it was when waking up in a cold sweat, with the deadened voices of his departed classmates - or occasionally the faraway screams of his missing family - still echoing in his ears...

Sometimes Makoto wondered if his other classmates experienced similar nightmares, but he never asked. The embarrassment of talking about his bad dreams like a primary schooler tended to override his want for a willing ear. Still, the hell experienced when awake was better than the hell experienced in his nightmares. Another feeble comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

A comfort refusing to be granted to him at this moment.

His body squirmed and his heart raced but his mind refused to release him. It dragged him deeper and deeper into its twisted hell, where all that awaited was darkness and agony - un _relenting_ agony. Desperately, Makoto thrashed and struggled, trying to find something to ground himself. But he couldn't move.

He was stuck.

Please wake up, Makoto told himself, fighting to banish the darkness and agony that _had_ to be some nightmare. A nightmare, just a nightmare, so he just had to wake up. Please, please, please, wake up...! _Wake up_!

He couldn't breathe. The hell of the sleeping world was removing his air supply now. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe! Gasping, thrashing, crying, Makoto begged someone, _anyone_ , to help him.

But nobody ca–

A cold hand rested over his eyes. With a sob, Makoto instantly latched onto it like a mental lifeline. This was _real_. That hand was _real_. And this painful world was just a product of his horribly traumatized mind. The hand was real, just focus on the hand...

He could breathe again. The pain still bit into him like a vicious dog, but the hand was real, and he could breathe again. Despite the lingering pain, Makoto felt himself relax.

The hand disappeared.

Wait, no...! Makoto writhed, letting out a distressed cry. He needed something to ground himself, to keep him from sinking deeper into this hell! He didn't care what it was, please...!

"Teru teru bozu, teru bozu~

"Tomorrow make the weather nice for me."

That song... Familiar, childish, hopeful yet melancholy, and _real_. Somebody was singing to him, right there, just beyond the reaches of his sleeping mind. While not a physical tether, it was enough for Makoto - he latched onto the voice and began to pull himself out.

"Like a heavenly dream once upon a time...

"If it clears and the sun returns, I'll give you a golden bell."

It was a nice voice. Gentle, caressing, and slightly absent, not unlike the hand that had grounded him earlier. The intent kind of reminded Makoto of his mother, comforting him in the midst of some bed-locking illness back during his middle-school or primary school years. Bolstered by the thought, Makoto continued to pull himself out of his mind-made hell.

"Teru teru bozu, teru bozu~

"Tomorrow make the weather nice for me."

More real things made themselves known to him - the rumpled bedsheets clenched beneath his now relaxing finger tips, the soft pillow nestling his head, and the pain. Dammit, the pain was real too - throbbing stabs of agony, concentrated at specific points all over Makoto's body, from his foot, to his shoulder, to his forearm, to his side, _everywhere_...!

No, no, no, he couldn't fall back now. Just focus on the voice. Only the voice...

"If you listen to my prayer and my wish comes true,

"To celebrate we shall drink lots of sweet sake tonight."

Wasn't this Komaru's favourite _warabe uta_? She used to sing it all the time, regardless of whether or not it was actually raining, mostly to annoy Makoto. What Makoto wouldn't give to have his little sister annoying him now... Though bathed in melancholy, the memories of Komaru served to finally pull Makoto up out of his little hell-hole. The darkness began to fade away.

"Teru teru bozu, teru bozu~

"Tomorrow make the weather nice for me."

 _Pain_.

His shoulder... It wasn't just hurt, it was actively _being_ hurt. Makoto arched his back with a gasp as he instinctively sought for the source of the pain. Through weary, tear blurred eyes, he could only make out a shadowed figure, bent over him like a dentist over a patient. And that song... Was it coming from the figure?

"But if it should get cloudy and I find you crying,

"Then beware my punishment, for I shall cut off your head.

"Snip!"

Light shone off of a pair of metallic blades. Makoto's vision cleared instantly, and he pushed himself back with a gasp. Then, he blinked, panic quickly diluting to a sense of unease.

That was a pair of scissors being aimed at his forehead.

Briefly, Makoto wondered what the heck Genocide Jack wanted with him - he wasn't exactly her type, right?

Except... Those weren't Jack's specially designed scissors that had snipped at his bangs. And that _definitely_ wasn't Jack leaning over him, long blond hair framing a Cheshire Cat grin.

Junko Enoshima giggled. "Moooorning, sleepyhead~"

"Gh...!" The trial, the Tragedy, the Ultimate Despair - it all came back to Makoto like the backlash of a rubber band.

Frantically, he tried to push himself up, to get away from his unhinged classmate, but he couldn't move. "What the...!?"

He was tied down! Why the hell was he tied down!? His wrists and ankles were cuffed to the bed like he was a crazy hospital patient! He couldn't move an inch in any direction, no matter how hard he writhed and pulled and struggled–

Enoshima slammed him back against the pillow, hand pressed over his mouth. "Stop. Squirming," she murmured dangerously.

Makoto whimpered, focus wavering between Enoshima's murderous gaze and the scissors hovering over his left eye.

Enoshima's gaze cleared, and she smiled sweetly. "You wouldn't wanna tear out your stitches, would ya?"

Stitches…? What?

The scissors moved out of Makoto's line of sight and snipped at something on his left shoulder. Enoshima giggled and pulled away, the mattress bouncing slightly at her departure.

Biting back a hiss of pain, Makoto sat up a little, glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, my god…!"

There were _stitches_ in his shoulder! Actual stitches! Sealing shut a _tear_ in his skin, soaking in the blood oozing its way through– Oh, god what had _happened_ to him?!

The world began to blur. Makoto could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he fell back against the pillow. _Huge_ mistake. Whatever horrible wounds were hidden beneath the blood soaked bandages clothing his body, they did _not_ appreciate the impact. The inescapable pain that had been forcibly pushed to the back of Makoto's mind since he saw Enoshima now slammed its way back to the forefront. Makoto cried out, fists clenching desperately.

"I told you to stop squirming."

Makoto turned pain-blurred eyes towards his insane classmate, who approached him with two rolls of still more bandages. It was only now that he noticed the blood staining her hands and uniform. _His_ blood.

He thought he'd been starting to kind of get used to the sight of blood, but something about knowing it all came from _him_ …

"Wh-what did you d-do to me?" Makoto stammered, the words coming out much more weak and much less demanding than he wanted.

" _I_ didn't do anything to you," Enoshima stated matter-of-factly. "I just went along with what everyone else wanted."

"What are y– you talking about?"

"Awww, was the trauma to much for ya? I guess getting consecutively betrayed and executed really takes it outta you."

Betrayed and… what?

"My turn."

Something rammed into Makoto's throat, slamming him back against the pillow. Makoto barely had time to release strangled scream before Enoshima was suddenly on top of him, clawed fingernails digging into his neck and eyes sharp with pure and unadulterated hatred.

(Wait, why was that familiar…?)

"How are you alive?" she demanded coldly.

"Wh– What?! Wha– Ghk…!"

Enoshima _squeezed_ , fingers tightening around his neck and pushing into his throat. Makoto's whole body jerked frantically against the restraints, instinctively looking to grab Enoshima or push her away - _anything_ to stop her from _killing_ him.

"You _cheated_ , didn't you?" Enoshima snarled through clenched teeth. "Didn't you!?"

"Wh-What are you talking about…?!" Makoto barely managed to choke out the words, mind blurred by pain and lack of oxygen. Dammit, he just needed to _breathe_ …!

Enoshima's head tilted to the side, eyes going unfocused. "I made that execution _especially_ for you... That was supposed to be the end. It's not _fair_!" she shrieked.

"Eno...Enoshima…"

"Shut up! I hate you! You and your stupid luck, your stupid _hope_ , why can't you just _die_!"

Then, the crushing hand disappeared from Makoto's throat. He gasped, desperately inhaling that beautiful air and letting it soothe his aching lungs and throat, while Enoshima leant back with a huff.

"Whew! _Finally_ I got that off my chest…!" She smiled down at the coughing, wheezing boy pinned beneath her. "Sooooorry, Naegi. I've kinda been holding in that rant for awhile. I'm so glad I finally got to confide in you. I think we're closer now as a result."

Makoto barely heard her over the sound of his own pounding heartbeat, raucous coughs, heaving lungs, and pained rasps. Through it all though, one thing stood out in his mind.

"You…" Makoto coughed. "You executed me."

"Aw, you remember now!"

When had Enoshima disappeared from on top of him? The Ultimate Fashionista was now sauntering back over to the bed, a bottle in one hand, a clean piece of cloth in the other. She sat down on the chair sitting alongside the bed and stared at Makoto with wide, eager eyes.

"Do you remember everything?"

Yes. Makoto remembered everything. The ultimatum. The vote. Saying goodbye to his friends– Yes, his friends, still his friends, even if… And then a tight space. Something sharp and shiny, _several_ somethings, and pain beyond–

Makoto flinched.

"Yes, such a close experience must have been terribly traumatic." Enoshima's voice took on a clinical tone as she doused the cloth with whatever was in the bottle. "I'm honestly rather jealous."

"How am I alive…?" Makoto asked hoarsely, his throat still sore even if his breathing had calmed down somewhat.

"That was my line, silly!" Enoshima giggled. "But really, you just got lucky, is all."

"Lucky…"

"Now bite down on this."

"Wha–?"

Enoshima shoved something between Makoto's teeth - a roll of bandages, it felt like - simultaneously answering and smothering the question that had been on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm not really in the screaming and crying mood right now, and I can't have you biting through your tongue…" Enoshima shrugged awkwardly. "So just bear with me for a bit."

Makoto's heart pounded as he stared at her, some kind of muffled whine escaping through the roll of bandages. Enoshima smiled and began using the damp cloth to wipe the blood off his stitched shoulder.

A small part of Makoto's mind likened the experience to being ten years old again, wincing as his mother dabbed a cut or scrape with antiseptic. Except this wasn't just a tiny childhood injury, and Makoto wasn't just wincing. He was _writhing_. And every other part of his mind not occupied with the odd childhood comparison was _screaming_ in agony.

"Your pain threshold isn't very high, is it, Naegi?"

Makoto groaned. His jaw ached from how tightly he had been biting into the roll of bandages, which he spat out miserably.

"And we still got twenty-three more stitches to clean and change…!" Enoshima exclaimed, setting aside the now bloody cloth and grabbing a second roll of bandages. "What do you think you'll lose first, your voice or your consciousness?"

Why…? The question tugged at Makoto's mind, the only well defined thought in an otherwise whirling mindscape. He was a little afraid of the answer, but still, he had to know...

"Why–?"

"Ah!" Enoshima tutted sharply, retrieving the improvised gag. "Can't have you losing your voice first! My bet is on your consciousness."

"H- Hey!" Makoto shook his head free of Enoshima's grabbing hands as she pressed the roll of bandages against his face, forcing himself to ignore the resulting pain. "Wait a second…!"

"C'mon, Naegi," Enoshima said exasperatedly, hands hovering in preparation to strike. "I'm not above making sure I win a _bet_."

"Ow!" Hot pain split through Makoto's scalp as he was forced into stillness by a vice grip on his hair.

 _This_ was a little too much.

" _Dammit_!" he snapped, voice cracking. "Just let me ask you a question!"

"Ooh~"

Only now realizing he had instinctively clenched his eyes shut, Makoto cracked them open to see Enoshima regarding him coyly.

"There's always something _fun_ about seeing you lose composure. All right~ _One_ question, and then we really _do_ need to get your injuries dealt with."

She wasn't letting go of his hair. Makoto grit his teeth, a mixture of pain, frustration, and embarrassment squirming amidst the constant fear and uncertainty settled deep within his body.

"Why are you even bothering with my injuries...?" Makoto intoned, eyes staring down at the bandages on his legs. "You say I was lucky enough to survive that execution. Fine. But why aren't you trying again? What are you even planning to do with me?"

There was a long silence. Makoto glanced up. Enoshima was just staring at him, utterly blank, like the time he had challenged her ultimatum in the last trial. And all too suddenly, Makoto remembered how very afraid he was of what the answer to his question might be. He swallowed and gripped the bedsheets with sweaty palms.

"...I don't know." Enoshima laughed, blankness giving way to red-cheeked giddiness. "I don't know! Oh, Naegi…!"

She was right up in Makoto's face now, her flushed smile sending sick chills down Makoto's spine. "Isn't that exciting?"

* * *

 _A/N HardyGal: The English translation of Teru Teru Bozu featured in this chapter was written by moi and moi's little sister. The translation is based off of several other English translations, modified to fit the metre of the original song._

 _So here we are, almost a year later, with an update... I'm so sorry to all you people who have been waiting for me to update this - I've been in the process of moving to a different country, being separated from my family, and other Issues (TM). But I'm back! With an update!_

 _An ENORMOUS thank you to everyone who has reviewed this so far! I cherish every one of you! To my guest reviewers, thank you too! I don't really want to take up too much of my word count replying to guest reviews, but I do have this fic up on Archive of Our Own - I CAN easily reply to guest comments there, so to my guest reviewers, feel free to leave your reviews there if you would like a reply from me :3_

 _I will confirm one question posited by guest reviewer HellgateDSakura: the inspiration for Makoto's execution did indeed come from a fan made execution, and with it came a fairly fandom-famous art piece depicting Makoto trapped in a barrel full of swords._


	5. Burst of Hope, Prepare to Endure

Makoto had no clue where he was when he woke up. For just a moment, he thought he was back at home, in his own room, with Komaru just next door and his parents down the hall. It was a brief thought that brought with it an overwhelming feeling of relief before it was instantly crushed by the remembrance of reality, pulling a soft groan from Makoto.

Heart stung by the hope it had been allowed for a cruel instant, Makoto stared up at the ceiling lethargically.

Except… That didn't look like the ceiling to his dorm room. For that matter, Monokuma's morning announcement always had Makoto waking up with an inescapable understanding of his current reality. He didn't remember hearing it upon waking just now.

Odd.

He should probably–

The soft pull of restraints as Makoto attempted to rub his eyes brought his new reality crashing back down on him.

"Oh… Right…"

The final trial, the truth, the ultimatum… Another groan escaped Makoto's lips, and he let himself just lay there, sore, miserable, and somehow still tired despite having gotten however many hours of sleep. How long _had_ he been asleep, anyway...?

Actually... how long had he been _here_ , passed out in this room? How long had it been since his… since the Killing Game ended? Days? Weeks?

Lethargy forgotten in the face of all these unknowns, Makoto turned his head, mouth open to ask Enoshima the increasingly unsettling question. But the Ultimate Fashion– the Ultimate Despair was nowhere to be seen. Well, that just added another obvious question to Makoto's growing list.

Still, Makoto supposed it made sense, and he couldn't help feeling somewhat relieved as he turned his eyes back towards the ceiling. If she _had_ been here, she likely would have pounced on him the instant she realized he was awake. Both figuratively _and_ literally, Makoto thought with an involuntary shudder.

His memories of last night - earlier this morning? A day or two ago? - kind of stopped after Enoshima revealed her plans for him (or rather lack thereof). Makoto had never dealt well with severe stress or trauma, and though he had certainly… grown more resilient since finding Maizono's body in his dorm room all those weeks ago, Enoshima's particular brand of medical care was unlike anything Makoto had ever experienced in his decent, average life. He must have passed out quickly, which Makoto supposed he should be grateful for. His mental health was struggling enough _without_ remembering exactly what changing stitches with Enoshima entailed, thank you very much.

She must have done a good job, though, seeing as Makoto neither saw nor felt any blood seeping into the bandages and oh _god_ where were his clothes?!

A cry of alarm that Makoto subconsciously recognized as his own shot through and died in the deadened room - his shirt, his school jacket, his pants, his shoes (well, okay, that was kind of expected), _his favourite hoodie_ , it was all gone!

How long had _this_ been the case?! The night before- earlier this morning- _whenever_ , had he…?

Yes, he had been too caught up in the pain and uncertainty and Enoshima's insanity to really notice at the time, but his clothes had definitely been missing then. Which meant that Makoto had been lying tied to a bed with only his boxers and some bandages to protect his modesty in the presence of his classmate for _goodness_ knows how long - and not just any classmate, but a _girl_.

Makoto felt his face flush, and a door slammed open. He had barely whipped his head in the direction of the sound before it was quickly proceeded by the sound of sprinting bootsteps and the sight of Junko Enoshima _leaping_ at him.

"Naegiiiiii!"

Makoto yelped. The wide arms and ecstatic smile descended upon him at an alarming speed, and Makoto could only snap his eyes shut, limbs curling uselessly against the restraints before something crashed onto the mattress.

"Aaaugh, owwww…!"

"You're _awake_!" Enoshima squealed in delight. "I've missed you sooo much…!"

Everything beneath the bandages _throbbed_ , every little bounce of the mattress sending a new ripple of agony throughout his body. Makoto could feel the sweat forming on his temple as he clenched at the bedsheets and cracked his eyes open. He choked. The impossibly wide grin of his certainly deranged classmate loomed over him, and the heat in Makoto's cheeks increased exponentially.

Enoshima leaned forward, her twin pigtails cascading onto the pillow on either side of Makoto's face. "Did you miss me?"

He couldn't speak. His voice box seemed to be locked up tight, his teeth wouldn't unclench, and no words even came to mind. She hadn't actually landed on him, she had just landed above him, but Makoto couldn't exactly find it in himself to be even mildly grateful, not while he was wholly preoccupied with the fact that her hands and knees were braced on either side of his essentially half-naked body.

"Hey," Enoshima pouted. "Don't ignore me–"

Makoto didn't even realize she had moved her hand until her fingers brushed his face, cold, _freezing_ cold against his hot skin. Instantly, his entire body unlocked, and Makoto jerked back against the pillow. "Where are my clothes…?!"

SLAP.

...To say that Makoto was more shocked that hurt would have been a lie - the left side of his face felt hot, no longer due to the blood that had been rushing through it, and his cheek prickled and stung, like an itch or a sunburn, but worse and far more concentrated. All the same, Makoto couldn't do more than stare with wide-eyes as Enoshima practically fell off the bed in her scramble to get away.

"You pervert!"

 _That_ snapped him out of it. "'Pervert'?!"

"Are you trying to imply something?!" Enoshima cried, arms wrapped around her chest.

"What? No, nothing like that!" Makoto exclaimed, somehow both less mortified now Enoshima had suddenly changed the nature of… whatever had been happening before, and yet even more mortified at the accusation. "I just wanna know what happened to–!"

The second slap was less shocking, but damn if it didn't hurt just as much, if not more.

"It wasn't like that!" Enoshima had turned her back on him, squeaky voice rising above his cry of pain and the ringing in his ears. "To even think I would do something that would tarnish my reputation…!"

"I swear, I didn't mean to imply anything," Makoto said pleadingly. "I just wanted to know where my clothes are, that's all…!"

She turned on him. Before Makoto could even flinch, she had his face trapped in a firm but otherwise painless grip.

"Gone," Enoshima said curtly, peeling his left eyelid back and tilting his face towards the bedside lamp, her own face the picture of an impassive examiner.

"G- Gone?" Makoto echoed, barely managing the word as Enoshima tilted his face the other way and did the same with his right eye.

"Well, I haven't gotten around to incinerating them yet." Enoshima once again turned his face so his left side was more visible and began picking at something on Makoto's cheek. "I had to cut it all off in order to stitch you up."

Evidently satisfied with her examination or whatever, Enoshima pulled away.

"You cut up my clothes?" Makoto said dumbly.

He felt… dazed. Enoshima's changing personality was like a rollercoaster, giving him whiplash at every opportunity and leaving him shaken. This wasn't nearly as thrilling as a roller coaster, though.

"Well, I couldn't very well stitch you up while you were covered in bloody clothing, couldn't I?" Enoshima's curt voice took on a bite of annoyance.

"Well, sure, but…"

Makoto wasn't sure why he felt a sense of loss at knowing his clothes had essentially been destroyed. They were just clothes, he could always get more. He wasn't too sure about his hoodie, though… That thing had been the one possession he owned that he could be at least a little confident in saying was one of a kind. It had been nice to have something that set him apart if only a little bit.

Well, it was gone now.

A tug at his wrist pulled Makoto from his melancholy thoughts, and he saw Enoshima undoing the straps encircling his wrist. "What are you doing?"

"You wanna put on some clothes, dont'cha?" Enoshima asked sweetly. "Can't do that when you're tied to a bed."

She released his right wrist, then his left. As she went to deal with the cuffs around his ankles, Makoto attempted to sit up, but whatever was hidden beneath the bandages around his torso apparently didn't like that idea whatsoever, and he quickly sank back into the mattress with a groan. He instead turned his attention to his wrists, rubbing the little indentations left behind on his pale skin.

"Okay…!" Enoshima stepped away from the bed with a cutesy smile. "Aaaall done! Your new clothes are in the bathroom, so let's work together t' get ya there, 'kay?"

A cold hand attempted to snake beneath his right arm, and Makoto recoiled. "I don't–"

"Whaaaaat?" Enoshima whined, highlighted eyes wide with hurt, before the cutesy demeanor disappeared in favour of something not immediately identifiable but definitely derisive. "Seriously, Naegi, what're you gonna do? Get there all by yourself?"

Makoto stared at the one other door in the room. He tried to sit up a second time.

Enoshima laughed as he fell back with a cry. Not a real laugh, exactly, but the laugh of someone taking great amusement at the expense of someone else. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Geez, for someone who survived for so long, you really are kinda dumb."

Makoto had no reason to feel embarrassed, or at least that's what he thought, but that didn't stop his face from beginning to heat up again. "I'm not–"

"C'mon, what's your problem?"

Before Makoto could even blink, Enoshima lifted him upright. The world spun, the blood rushed to his head, his injuries screamed in protest, and Makoto screamed in turn. Enoshima was still talking, but he could barely hear her over the pounding in his skull and his own frantic gasps.

"...mean, Kirigiri practically carried your clueless ass throughout every trial."

What the heck was she even saying right now? Even as the throbbing in his head died down and his breathing slowed, Makoto could only stare at her uncomprehendingly.

"Or maybe you're just nervous." Enoshima raised an eyebrow, smirking in a way that made Makoto's stomach flip for reasons he wasn't a hundred percent sure about. "Stripped down and alone with a girl like me."

All of a sudden, Makoto was all too aware of just how cold her arm felt against his bare back.

"What are you saying…!?" He only barely managed to contain a stutter, but that didn't stop his voice from coming out high and flustered.

Enoshima let out another laugh, still just as unkind but decidedly more delighted. "Oh, that's it…! Ugh, if only Mukuro could see you now!"

She maneuvered Makoto's legs off the side of the bed, despite his attempts to recoil a second time, and finally made him stand upright.

Makoto couldn't help the tears welling up in his eyes as his body punished him for every movement, nor the way he gasped and cried out to the point he couldn't be sure he wasn't actually starting to cry by this point. And he couldn't help way his cheeks continued to heat up as he could do nothing but lean against Enoshima for support.

"Don't flatter yourself, bland boy," Enoshima scoffed as she adjusted his right arm so it was over her shoulder. "I value my virtue as a model, and you're way below my league anyway."

Should he be relieved or maybe a bit hurt? No, screw it, he should be pissed more than anything. She was just toying with him, trying to get any kind of rise out of him, just like during the last trial. What had she said the last time? That it was 'fun' to watch him break down?

Makoto grit his teeth, clenching his right hand into the fabric of Enoshima's uniform. If she noticed, she didn't make any comment for once. With her left arm beneath his right arm and pressed against his back, Enoshima took a step forward, and Makoto followed her lead.

It hurt like hell. His body was practically made of pain, and his right foot in particular did not appreciate any sort of pressure on his part, forcing him to rely almost entirely on Enoshima with every step. What had happened to warrant all the bandages wrapped around his foot? An increasingly tight space, sharp and shiny objects, literally cutting closer and closer–

Makoto flinched, and decided to focus on just moving forward, one tiny limp at a time.

"You're awfully quiet alluva sudden," Enoshima commented.

She was bending down a little in order to support him. Makoto didn't usually feel too insecure about his height, but that was slightly discouraging.

"It's too early to start boring me, Naegi."

Something about her tone made the hairs on the back of Makoto's neck stand on end.

"So I'm just here to entertain you?" he intoned.

"I don't know." She giggled, and Makoto felt her clutch at the bandages encircling his torso, causing him to wince. "Ooh, perfect, that was perfect."

Well, that dangerous tone was gone, but Makoto didn't know if he liked that weird tone any better.

They made it to the other door in the room, which Enoshima kicked open. The next thing Makoto knew, he was flailing as Enoshima practically threw him through the doorframe.

"Woah, hey…!" By some miracle, Makoto managed to grab onto the edge of the first object in front of him, halting his inevitable fall.

The lights flicked on, revealing the object Makoto was leaning on to be a bathroom sink. He could see Enoshima reflected in the mirror above the sink, standing in the doorframe.

"Your clothes are over there." She pointed to his left. "Go ahead and do any gross stuff you feel ya have to after so much time just lying around."

Makoto glanced at where she was pointing to see a small pile of plain clothing - a t-shirt, a pair of shorts and some boxers - sitting on top of a toilet tank right next to the sink. He could probably reach that.

"And no, I won't be helping you with _anything_." Enoshima smirked. "No matter how much you might beg me to."

With some effort, Makoto turned until his back was against the sink and he could glare at Enoshima. She laughed and he slammed the door as hard as he could, which apparently wasn't all that hard, but it at least got the door to click shut. Makoto let out a huff and slowly maneuvered himself to face the mirror once again.

"Oh, geez…"

Makoto had thought he looked bad after his first execu… after Kirigiri had rescued him from the trash pit. But that was nothing compared to what he saw staring back at him. Tired, dirty, and bruised though he may have been after the trash ordeal, he at least still kinda looked like a normal kid who maybe got into more trouble than he should. Now, well…

(He looked like someone who survived an execution. A proper, brutal execution).

He was paler. It made the shadows under his eyes stand out frighteningly and the bandages wrapped and plastered all over his body seem duller in comparison than they probably should have.

Was this really him? Makoto Naegi, the most average boy the world could conceive. Normal life, normal family, with nothing to set him apart but a bit of a subjective lucky streak and an overall optimistic view of the world, now looking like he had barely clawed his way out of hell?

Makoto lifted a hand to his left cheek to touch the bandage plastered there. Sure enough, the reflection mirrored his movement, as well as his wince of pain. So this _was_ real...

Carefully, Makoto began to peel away the bandage, which was nearly falling apart anyways. Thanks no doubt to Enoshima _slapping_ him. Makoto still couldn't decide exactly how he felt about that. The gauzey material came off easily, bloodstained and revealing a neat cut running partway down Makoto's cheek.

"That's definitely gonna scar…"

The adhesive keeping the bandage in place pulled at the edges of the cut, and blood sprang out from within. It stung, bringing back memories of trying desperately to pound his way out of a tight space before something suddenly invaded that space, slicing open–

Makoto quickly replaced the bandage and turned his attention towards the toilet and the clothes on top of it. His right foot still refused to support him and left leg hurt like hell, but he had to get moving. He really did need to use the toilet, and with no lock on the door, Makoto couldn't trust that Enoshima wouldn't just barge in at any moment.

* * *

The bathroom door clicked open, and Enoshima looked up. "Geez, you sure took your sweet time. I'm kinda surprised you didn't fall over and die."

Makoto just leant the doorframe, exhausted, and beyond hurting, but at least fully clothed. "Me too…"

He jolted as Enoshima appeared in front of him with only a few quick bootsteps as warning and grabbed him by the jaw.

"Ugh, why'd you mess this up?" she groaned, picking at the bandage on his face.

Makoto frowned, trying and failing to push her hands away. "You _slapped_ me. Ow!"

Having just ripped the bandage from Makoto's face, Enoshima flicked it aside and threw Makoto's arm over her shoulder, exclaiming cheerily, "Well, maybe ya shouldn'a been such a creep, ya know?"

"I didn't mean to–" No, no, no, he wasn't about to apologize for something he knew wasn't his fault. "I never said anything like that."

"Awww, c'mon…!" As soon as they made it back to the bed, Enoshima sat Makoto down - well, more like dumped him onto the mattress and left him to quickly figure out whether he wanted to fall back, tumble off, or keep upright - and smushed her fists against her cheeks with a pout. "The least you can do is take responsibility!"

Responsibility for _what_? Makoto wanted to ask, but the words were trapped behind all the screaming he was struggling to contain behind clenched teeth as he clutched at the bedsheets with sweaty palms.

Just… stay sitting upright. Falling over was not an option, and lying back put him in a far more vulnerable position than he was already. Through tearing eyes, he watched Enoshima retrieve some gauze, disinfectant, and a few other things. She was humming all the while, and in any other situation, if he didn't know who she really was, Makoto would have just said she seemed happy. As it was, he could only imagine what she was really feeling.

"How long have I been here?" Makoto finally asked, the pain dulling enough to allow for words.

Enoshima tittered, settling down on the chair beside the bed and daintily crossing one leg over the other. "Hm, you're gonna have to be more specific, sweetie."

"I mean, how long has it been since the last trial? How long have I been out? Heck, where even are we?"

For the first time, Makoto actually looked around the room. It was definitely a dorm room, or at least built like one, but it was unlike any of the dorm rooms at the Despair Hotel. It was smaller, and barer in terms of furniture and colour.

Out of the small assortment of items now dumped on her lap, Enoshima picked out a cotton swab and the bottle of disinfectant, giggling, "Hee hee, so many questions…!"

Makoto watched her uncap the bottle and take the cotton swab to it. "...Aren't you gonna answer any of them?"

"Why would I do that? You're that much cuter when you don't know what's happening."

"Ah…!" Makoto's hands once again tightened around the bedsheets as the cotton swab dabbed at his cheek. He was probably ruining them by now.

"C'mon, that couldn't have hurt that much," Enoshima giggled. "Aren't boys supposed to be tough? Oh, right." Her tone changed from sweet and teasing to drawn out and derisive. "Your sucky pain threshold."

As Enoshima set aside the disinfecting materials and picked out some gauze and a roll of medical tape, Makoto shook himself and persisted. "Wh-What about everyone else? Kirigiri, Togami, everyone, where are they?"

"Them?" Enoshima scoffed. "Who cares about _them_?"

" _I_ do…!" Makoto smacked away the arm reaching to place the bandage over his face.

Any other time Makoto may have thought twice about doing something like that, but Enoshima's non-answers were seriously starting to grate on his nerves. Anger and anxiety prickled throughout his body like electricity.

"Where are they?" Makoto demanded, glaring at his classmate. If he could even call her that at all anymore.

"Drowning in despair."

...What?

"What?" The word came out quiet, but tight with more emotions than Makoto could bother to name.

"They voted to punish you in exchange for staying at Hope's Peak." Enoshima leaned forward again, pressing the bandage over Makoto's slack cheek. "Now they're drowning in the despair of– Ah, whatever, they don't matter anymore."

Makoto pushed her hand away, but there was no anger behind the gesture this time. "I-I have to talk to them…!"

"Why?" Enoshima asked blankly. "They're the whole reason you can't even stand up right now."

"I don't care…!"

There was a literally painful amount of truth to her words, though. Makoto could barely _move_ without his body punishing him, let alone stand up. But that didn't matter, he had to try! He _had_ get up and find his friends, let them know he was okay, let them know that hope wasn't out of reach…!

" _One_ of them made a mistake," he ground out, making another effort to straighten up. "But I understand why. You backed them all into a corner, just like Maizono, made them think there was no other choice, and now they're all suffering for it…!"

He struggled, _struggled_ to stand up, to place any weight on his legs, and Enoshima simply leant back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Why d'you care? _They_ clearly don't."

"That's not true, I _know_ that's not true…!" His voice was starting to crack, but Makoto really didn't care. "Their despair is evidence of that!"

"You think they're despairing over _you_?" Enoshima's whole demeanor changed. Her face twisted into a sneer and she stood up sharply, knocking the chair back as she glared down at Makoto. " _You_?"

Makoto faltered for just a moment. He thought she was just being derisive, trying to destroy his sense of self-worth. No, he _knew_ she was being derisive - the way she looked at him, the way her lip curled, it almost reminded him of trying to hold a conversation with Togami… But that wasn't all. The way she trembled, the way her fists clenched, the way her voice cracked… She was more than derisive, so much more, and it was that unidentifiable insanity that nearly had Makoto shrinking back like a dog with its tail between its legs.

No, he couldn't back down now! Makoto steeled himself and returned her glare with one of his own. "Even if they aren't, that doesn't mean I won't help them…!"

Enoshima recoiled. "What the hell…?!"

She looked him up and down, face slowly morphing into one of revulsion and horror. Makoto didn't know what she saw, but it was making her back off and that was enough.

"I have to show them…" He took a deep breath, hands clenching at the bedsheets. "...they can keep moving forward. This isn't the end…!"

He stood up. For just a moment he actually stood up, pushing himself up off the bed, pain _nothing_ against the determination to find his friends, even if he hadn't the slightest clue how to go about doing that, but aiming for the exit seemed like a good starting point.

And then Enoshima slammed him back against the bed.

"If you think for even a _second_ that I'm gonna give you back to them," she breathed. "You're dumber than I thought."

Her voice was low, almost husky. It was a wonder Makoto could hear her as he _screamed_.

He probably should have gone limp, let the agony ride its way through his body and be done with it, but all he could focus on was Enoshima's weight bearing down on him, pinning him down, digging into his wounds, making it hard to _breathe_ …!

"Get off me! _Get off me_!"

"You disgust me. You _fascinate_ me." The words wormed their way through the pounding in his ears, past whimpers and gasps, slithering into his skull like a hoard of snakes. "What _are_ you, Makoto Naegi?"

His name came out sounding like every way he would have hated, every way he would have ever desired to hear it spoken, like hundreds of opposing ideals had been crudely mashed together and forced to express themselves in one word. Or two words, rather. Makoto looked up at the girl pinning him down, and his stomach both flipped and shriveled up at seeing that same insanity reflected in her eyes, framed by an otherwise blank expression.

"What do you _mean_?" he said desperately, still struggling to escape her grasp. "What do you _want_ from me?"

The weight around his wrists tightened, and that weird, flushed smile split the blank mask making up Enoshima's face. "I don't know."

"I don't understand!" Makoto cried out, frustration colouring the ever-rising-panic. "You keep saying that, but that makes no sense!"

"No, it doesn't!" Enoshima screamed, her smile becoming even more flushed, her gaze becoming unfocused as she turned it towards the ceiling. "It makes no sense! _Me_ , the girl who could see everything, _not knowing_...!"

She gasped, a high pitched inhale that had her arching back at a nearly impossible angle, followed by a whiplash of blond hair as she looked back down at the boy beneath her. "And _you_ , the most boring, average, inconsequential boy in existence, screwing up all my best laid plans without even _trying_ …! You…! You're…!"

Makoto had long since stopped struggling. Dread lined the pit of his stomach, the realization that she was telling the truth for once leaving him frozen, cold against the flames of her passionate hysteria. He could only stare at her.

But as Enoshima stared back, giggling and struggling to get out whatever words she wanted to say next, the flames began to die down. Her eyes cleared, her smile fell.

What was that expression on her face?

"You..."

"Enoshima?" Makoto whispered, concern - yes, _concern_ \- and wariness making his voice surprisingly steady.

The girl shuddered and pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself with a dry heave. "Ugh, you make me feel _disgusting_ …! It must be your stupid 'sunshine and rainbows' shtick, you _reek_ of it!"

What the hell was that? Makoto barely noticed as the grip around his wrists disappeared. Enoshima was weird– no, absolutely _insane_ to be sure, but something about her behavior just then–

Something buried itself into his hair, snapping Makoto from his thoughts with a hitched breath.

"But I can't stay away from you," Enoshima ground out. "You're just so damn fascinating."

Her fingers, like two large spiders crawling through hair, sending uncomfortable tingles down his spine, tightened painfully.

"Don't you get it, Naegi?" Enoshima squealed, paying no mind to the squirms and hisses as she leant down. "I can't kill you, I can _barely_ predict you, and I _love_ it! I hate it! The one thing I can barely predict and it's _you_ \- boring, average, disgustingly hopeful Makoto Naegi. I hate it. I love it! And on and on it goes! a neverending cycle of despair!"

Her breath felt hot against his face. He wanted to push her away, to argue with her, but he couldn't move. He didn't even know what to say. All he could do was lie stock still, his own breaths coming out tight and shallow.

"Maybe I'll try to kill you," Enoshima exclaimed breathlessly. "Maybe I'll try to _break_ you. Hell, maybe I'll go batshit _crazy_ and try to _kiss_ you…! I don't know, Naegi, I don't know…! I just know you're mine now!"

She yanked his head up, pulling a strangled yelp from Makoto's lips, and pressed her forehead against his. "And I sure as anything am not letting you go."

...What was it he had thought before? That he looked like he had barely clawed his way out from the depths of hell?

No, that was wrong.

He had barely made any progress at all. There was still a lot more clawing to be done, and it would be about as easy as standing up.

* * *

That was three of four messages complete. There was a moment of petulant hesitation as the pen hovered over the fourth, but it was dashed within the same moment. As annoying as it would be, this matter demanded full unity. He was not so above everything to forget something as basic as that.

Crumpled up pieces of paper circled the desk, remnants of past attempts that were not up to par in terms of language or betrayed emotion through poor penmanship and words cut too deep into the paper. To think it took him this many tries, it was infuriating. Almost as infuriating as the fact that it took him this long to even _start_ on this endeavor.

Well, it wouldn't do to dwell on that. He finished the last message and added it to the small pile on the desk.

None of the message recipients were about when he delivered them, swiftly and quietly, before returning to his room. Just as well, he really couldn't be bothered to interact with anyone before the appointed time.

For many reasons he really couldn't be bothered to name.

The first stage was complete, and Byakuya Togami went about properly preparing himself for bed for the first time in what should not have been nearly so long as it was. But again, it wouldn't do to dwell on that.

That was… sort of the whole point of this, after all.

* * *

 **A/N HardyGal: I could make a poem out of that chapter title. Anyway, YES! I managed to finish a chapter within a year!**

 **Thank you so much, every one of you who bothered to review this slow moving fic. Your feedback and/or kind words mean more to me than I can properly say ^-^ And again, to those who don't have an FFN account for me to reply to, just leave a comment on the Ao3 edition of this fic and I'll definitely reply there**


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